


Office Romance

by threewalls



Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Boot Worship, Community: 30_lemons, Established Relationship, Leather Kink, M/M, Office, Politics, Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-20
Updated: 2006-03-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tatsumi has been borrowed by the Peace Protection Bureau and Watari needs a form signed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office Romance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistressrenet](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=mistressrenet).



> Thanks: lynndyre for always making my writing better.

After midnight, JuOhCho's Summoning Division is still and silent, and for once, their Kachou's office is the same. Soft light from an eternally full moon filters through the slits in the Venetian blinds, stripes bending over the two desks and numerous filing cabinets. In the corner, the fax machine quietly hums in its power-saving mode.

Tatsumi steps out of the shadows, his usual long strides clipped and shortened. He navigates the room unerringly despite the dark. Arranging his coat around his person, he settles into his desk chair with a small sigh, leaning against the chair back.

This week, JuOhCho is entertaining a delegation from their equivalent bureau in the Republic of Korea. Overtly a diplomatic visit, there had been a rumour the Koreans had acquired the services of their own kagetsukai-- accordingly, the Peace Protection Bureau had appropriated his services for the duration.

Tatsumi has new appreciation for the work Shin-san, Kochou-san and their colleagues performed. They are-- and he, for the week would be-- paid higher rates than the Summoning division, but unlike the Accountancy Division, they deserve to be.

Tatsumi is unused to the results of his actions having such critical consequences. He had been grateful to have been assigned to Shin-san's keeping once she started listing the delegates and just how far above him in the government they stood. Lord EnMa himself had made an appearance in the morning session, welcoming their guests. When his piercing eyes had swept over Tatsumi, Tatsumi had not even bothered to try to meet them.

However, at all other times, he had apparently acquitted himself well, following Shin-san's valuable advice to stand tall, stay quiet and watch the shadows, not the delegates. His Korean counterpart is both far younger than Tatsumi and significantly less powered, though he exhibits the iron control that all Kagetsukai require. He had stood the duration of each of the day's session without moving, only testing the shadows twenty minutes before the end of the evening schedule. Tatsumi had countered easily by holding them in place, nothing fancy, nothing inflammatory. According to Shin-san, no one else had noticed their contest while it had been occurring, which had been just as well.

Tatsumi is also unused to standing alert for hours. Trying to prevent his knees locking, because having a member of their bodyguard faint would cause a significant loss of face to his superiors. His ankles, his arches, the soles of his feet-- Tatsumi's feet ache, and he knows that he'll have to start doing it all again in less than nine hours. Shin-san had warned him that new boots take time to break in; she had been right.

Suddenly, there are loud footsteps outside the office. Tatsumi's head jerks up and the shadows twitch. The door knob twists awkwardly for a moment-- but it's only Watari outside, knocking and calling out for Tatsumi. Tatsumi unlocks the door with a tendril of shadow and Watari stumbles in and moves toward Tatsumi's desk. Moonlight catches on his hair, his glasses and the paper clip at the corner of the slim report he's holding. From the sound of his breathing, he sounds like he ran there.

"I knew you wouldn't stay away-- Tatsumi, is that you?" Watari asks, leaning forward to flick on Tatsumi's desk lamp.

Tatsumi raises his hand in front of his eyes immediately, keeping them closed for a few moments to give his eyes time to adjust to the increased light.

"Other divisions have a stricter dress code, Watari-san."

In accordance with Peace Protection divisional policy, Tatsumi wears a black leather trenchcoat over a black business suit, whose slimmer cut trouser legs fit seamlessly underneath mid-calf length boots. It wouldn't have suited the image JuOhCho wanted to project to have Tatsumi look out of place among the other agents.

Shin-san had called him late last night with her division's request, and he'd agreed after discussing financial compensation. She'd been there in Konoe's office when Tatsumi had arrived at six this morning, a suit bag draped casually over her shoulder. The tailoring on his uniform is too good for ready to wear clothing. It's idle speculation to consider what might have happened if he'd demurred on this assignment. As this entire day has reminded Tatsumi, politics on a grander scale than this office are not his forte.

Watari's curious gaze over Tatsumi's new look is less obvious than Shin-san's had been, but the meaning behind it concerns Tatsumi more. She's been trying to get him in leather for years, the same way he's tried to get her into a formal kimono; both know that the pleasure of getting them out of such interesting outfits would fall to their respective partners. Tatsumi considers asking Watari's opinion outright. On the other hand, he doesn't want to start something he's too tired to make good on.

"May I ask why you're here?"

Watari places the report he is holding on the desk in front of Tatsumi. "With all the excitement, I thought you'd probably forgotten that proposals for the next round of cross-divisional grants have to be sitting in Takashima-san's in tray by nine tomorrow morning. This is my final, final draft, incorporating most of your suggestions. Konoe said it was fine, but he'd feel more comfortable with you looking it over... and forging his signature."

Technically speaking, the proposal needs the support of the divisional head, but Konoe trusts Tatsumi to forge his signature where financial matters are concerned. If he is successful, Watari's application will bring money into the division through an entirely new avenue, and that is always worth the extra time to perfect it.

"I set up a motion sensor in here once Konoe left for the day." Watari picks up a small, hitherto-unnoticed object off Tatsumi's desk, doing something to it to make it beep and slips it into one of his many pockets. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stay away," Watari teases.

"I only came back to change my shoes," Tatsumi protests, matching Watari's tone with complementary sarcasm.

"They gave you shoes as well?"

Watari walks around the desk, canting his head and looking low. Tatsumi swivels his chair to face Watari, blinking when Watari summarily sinks to his knees in front of him. Watari spreads the tails of Tatumi's trenchcoat back over his legs to reveal the boots; when exactly, Tatsumi wonders, had he spread his legs?

"Maybe you came back to get your shoes, but these--" Watari glances up, grinning in candid appreciation, "--are not shoes, Tatsumi. How about I help you with your _boots_ while you look over my report?"

Tatsumi nods, taking up the report as Watari's head and hands go down. It is an uncountable relief to Tatsumi that despite being lovers, he and Watari can still interact professionally. The boots possess what Tatsumi considers unnecessarily complicated lacing; he does not mind avoiding it. Tatsumi sighs as Watari kneads his aching feet through the supple leather of his boots, first one foot, and then the other.

Tatsumi slides off the paperclip binding the report, so that he can view the pages without creasing the corners. He knows he is tired, but makes the extra effort to try to view this sixth draft with reasonably fresh eyes. Regardless, there are few changes and none unexpected. At certain places, he has to smile to see the spirit of his corrections overlaid but not obscured by Watari's uniquely entertaining prose style. It had certainly become as persuasive a document as they could hope to have created together.

Tatsumi reshuffles the report, taking care to ensure the pages are still in order. He signs Konoe's signature with a black fountain pen he keeps in his desk especially for the purpose, one of a matched pair he shares with Konoe.

After replacing the pen in his stationary organiser, Tatsumi looks down and finds that while his boots have been partially unlaced, they have not been removed.

"All good?" Watari's tone is casual, but his expression hints at something both speculative and introspective. It is a look that Tatsumi has had years to learn the meaning of.

Tatsumi is suddenly very aware that his lover is kneeling between his legs, his hair even more golden in the light of the desk lamp, his hands loosely grasping Tatsumi's boots. Tatsumi no longer feels so tired.

"Yes," Tatsumi answers, swallowing and trying not to do so too loudly. "I'll fax it through in a moment."

Watari raises one hand to pump lightly into the air in triumph, but soon drops his hand back to rest on Tatsumi's foot. This time the gesture is unmistakable. Watari is, albeit discreetly, fondling his booted ankles.

"Are they letting you keep the boots?"

"Do you like them?"

Watari doesn't answer immediately, but rather ducks his head to lightly nuzzle the crotch of Tatsumi's trousers. He makes a noise of delighted surprise to discover the bulge there hitherto obscured by shadows; Tatsumi himself gasps, his eyes closing in pleasure. When he opens them, Watari is back up on his knees. While his posture speaks of restraint, his eyes are hungry and when he catches Tatsumi's gaze, he slowly runs the tip of his tongue over his lips.

"May I--?"

"Yes."

Tatsumi's belt buckle goes first, then his fly. They unbutton his jacket together, Watari starting from the bottom and Tatsumi from the top. Tatsumi starts on his waistcoat, then shifts as he feels his shirt-tails tugged out of his pants, the fabric sliding over his thighs and lower belly. Watari hooks fingers under the waistband of Tatsumi's briefs and pulls it down far enough to free the head of Tatsumi's erection. Watari's breath is warm and his tongue is hot-- for an all too brief instant of contact.

"Oh, Seii--" Watari groans. "All I can smell is you and the leather." And then Watari is sucking him, warm, wet mouth surrounding the head of his cock, slippery hot tongue sliding over the underside and Watari's nose pressing in against his waistcoat.

One of Watari's hands twists underneath Tatsumi, the heel of his hand lightly massaging Tatsumi's balls while his fingers twist up even further back. Tatsumi leans back to tilt his hips and his feet point; somehow, their ache has become just another throbbing counterpart to his erection. Watari's hair is so soft under his hand. Tatsumi tries not to restrict his movement, but he's unable not to be touching.

Tatsumi's desk chair creaks as they move, loud in the dark, reminding him of their surroundings. Not even those first few months-- when every spare moment seemed to find them in a bed, on a couch, in a broom closet-- had they ever made love in his office, in this office he shares with Konoe. He'd been worried about professionalism. Now, provided they don't get caught, it just seems fitting, like the first time Watari had taken him pressed over a laboratory bench.

The memory and Watari's hand underneath him is enough to push him too close to his limit. Tatsumi moves his hand from Watari's head to a tight grip on the armrest of his desk chair, and warns, his voice rough, "Yutaka--"

Watari hums his acknowledgement, his fingers rubbing more urgently even as his mouth slackens.

Tatsumi's head jerks backward, his upper body arching over the back of his desk chair even as his pelvis thrusts forward. He gasps soundlessly, his jaw clenching, his thoughts dissolving as Watari continues sucking each succeeding pulse from his cock.

Several moments later, Tatsumi pulls himself back up to sitting. Watari is still touching him, perhaps fingers now, a gentler, cooler touch tucking his cock back under his briefs. Tatsumi wills his blurred vision to regain focus, and then leans down to kiss Watari deeply.

"I don't taste like leather," he murmurs, enjoying the heat he can feel from the flush on Watari's face.

"Oh, I'll get you in leather pants yet. Brown ones, maybe. And tight, so that you'd have to wear a g-string."

Watari has mentioned such desires before, but only, Tatsumi had thought, indirectly and in jest. But he's learnt that Watari rarely mentions his desires directly without desire being foremost on his mind.

Feeling inspired, Tatsumi leans forward even further in his seat and takes hold of Watari's shoulder with one hand, while reaching with the other between Watari's bent knees. Watari looks at him quizzically, but widens his stance. Tatsumi shifts one foot into the space, pressing it up against the crotch of Watari's jeans. Watari arches immediately, grabbing hold of Tatsumi's knee to steady himself. Tatsumi shifts the pressure he applies, smiling to see Watari rock into his movements.

Except that after a few moments of this, Watari's twists become squirms.

"Seii, I can't-- not from just this. Can I--?"

Tatsumi puts his foot down and lets himself slide slowly forward from his seat, his hand on Watari's shoulder guiding him in the same direction. They move in concert from kneeling to lying on the floor, Tatsumi stretching out over Watari as they recline and then shifting to lie by his side.

Tatsumi slides one arm under Watari's head, while his other reaches for the buttons of Watari's jeans. Watari shifts towards Tatsumi and a little onto his side, his golden hair spreading over the black leather as his white lab coat has spread out beneath them. Glancing down, Tatsumi can see his coat trail over both their legs and tries not to think too hard about wrapping Watari's brightness in shadow.

"I see you're wearing underwear today."

"I didn't expect I'd... we'd... oh, your coat..." Watari leans his face against Tatsumi's arm, closing his eyes and inhaling.

There's little room for Tatsumi's hand inside Watari's tight jeans and even less under his underwear, but Tatsumi moves as best he can. Watari's cock is already hot and slick against his fingers, and it's not long before Watari shakes against him, hips thrusting off the floor.

Tatsumi kisses him lightly on his temple; Watari hums something incoherent, but doesn't move. Tatsumi licks his fingers clean before removing a handkerchief from his breast pocket, using it to wipe gently underneath Watari's briefs. Tatsumi holds on to Watari, listening to him breathe.

When Watari raises his head, Tatsumi kisses him again, this time on the lips. The kiss is gentle rather than passionate. He can feel how tired they both are.

"You really do like these boots, don't you?"

"And the coat. Feeling smug, are we?"

"A little, I have to admit."

The time is now close to one in the morning. Shin-san is expecting him no later than eight, and before that Tatsumi will have to have showered, dressed and found breakfast. Faxing Watari's report will take a few minutes, opening the window to air the room another minute. The numbers and minutes do not marshal agreeably in his head, but for once, Tatsumi sets them aside.

"Will you sleep beside me tonight?"

He realises how that sounds a moment later, and begins stumbling through an explanation of taking Watari home, to his house, but Watari just kisses him.

"Yes."


End file.
